


the ties that bind

by rokkasen



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-30 23:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19413448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rokkasen/pseuds/rokkasen
Summary: Cassandra’s uncle comes to Skyhold and wonders who it is that has captured his niece’s heart. (He really, really hopes it’s not the odd bearded man who lives in the barn.)





	the ties that bind

Evelyn limped into Skyhold, heaving a sigh of relief and contentedness as her new home came into view. She was looking forward to some peace and quiet after a very, very long few weeks traipsing the terrain of the Hinterlands. While halla herding and elfroot gathering had its merits, she couldn’t wait to take a bath, chug a vat of cheap wine, and flirt mercilessly with her love (!), who would no doubt chastise her for her drunkenness (as it was unfitting for the Inquisitor), but secretly find it endearing.

“-- and then while you were knocked out, the Seeker punched a bear right in the face, I shit you not,” Evelyn heard Varric say behind her. Dorian snorted, but it only further encouraged the storyteller. “Not a lot of finesse, I admit, but the woman’s got a damn good right hook.”

“Well then, that settles it. If we are so hard up for funds -- and we must be, because our dear Inquisitor has been taking every odd job around Thedas -- perhaps we should enter her into one of those classy little underground fight clubs Kirkwall is so well known for,” Dorian suggested. 

“Love it. We’ll make a killing. But we need to come up with a catchy nickname -- it’s all about the nickname.”

“ _The Savage Seeker._ ”

“You’re a genius, Sparkler!”

“You say that like it’s a surprise.”

“Gentlemen,” Evelyn warned, though she couldn’t hide her smile. “While I appreciate and celebrate your entrepreneurial endeavors, maybe you could, I don’t know, stop trying to sell my darling and her fists of fury?”

Dorian rolled his eyes good naturedly. “So, she’s your darling now, is she? Does the Lady Seeker know that?”

Evelyn nudged him in the ribs none too gently. “Your jealousy is showing, Dorian. Green is an awful color on you.”

“An unfounded rumor. Every color looks good on me,” he sniffed.

Josephine scurried into the main hall, heels clicking furiously on the stone floor. She had her “Serious Ambassador” face on and the group looked at each other wearily, good mood immediately dampened. It wasn’t that Evelyn didn’t adore Josephine, because she did, but everytime she entered a room with that expression, Evelyn had to put on yet another dog and pony show for some noble who wanted to gawk at the Herald of Andraste.

Evelyn sighed. So much for a quiet evening of drinking and seducing Cassandra with trashy Orlesian poetry. Why didn’t she ever get nice things?

“Alright, Josephine,” Evelyn said. “Which important person do I need to entertain tonight? Shall I retrieve Leliana’s lute and put on a concert?”

Josephine’s mouth thinned into a terse line. “Very funny, Inquisitor, but you may not be laughing when I tell you who has arrived unannounced.” 

Evelyn stretched her arms above her head and then raked her fingers through her wild red curls. She winced when she pulled out a branch. “It isn’t Duke de Montfort, is it? He’s rather handsy for a former Chantry brother.”

“Do feel free to send him my way,” Dorian offered. “He’ll have much better luck with me. Unless, of course, he can punch a bear, since that is apparently an incredibly powerful aphrodisiac for the Inquisitor.”

“I hate you sometimes,” Evelyn said.

Josephine cleared her throat loudly. “While I am so glad you are finding this amusing, the Prelate of Nevarra’s Mortalitasi is moments from entering Skyhold.” The three gave Josephine a blank look. “Let me put this in a way you will all understand -- Lady Pentaghast’s uncle, Vestalus Pentaghast, has decided to ‘drop in for a visit’. Unannounced.”

“Oh, shit,” Varric said helpfully. 

Dorian clasped a hand on Evelyn’s shoulder. “How lovely. You’re already at the stage of meeting the relatives. What’s next? A proposal?”

Panic set in and Evelyn sprung into action. She was hot, dirty, smelled like halla dung, and was possibly still bleeding a little. There was absolutely no way that she could meet such a high ranking individual -- one that she desperately needed to impress for so many reasons -- looking like utter garbage.

“Distract him!” Evelyn hissed at Varric and Dorian, already running towards the staircase up to her room. “Buy me some time!”

“How much time?”

“My hair looks like it ate the last comb that came near it and I smell like a barn!” she groaned. “A lot of time!”

“Should I tell him about the bear punching?” Varric called after her.

“Honestly, you would be doing our illustrious Seeker a disservice if you didn’t,” Dorian replied.

“I am begging you, please behave yourselves,” Josephine implored. “I’m going to find Cassandra and do some preemptive damage control.”

 _Good luck with that,_ Evelyn thought, and set off to try and scrape the Hinterlands from off of her skin.

\---

By the time Evelyn emerged from her room looking and smelling more human, it seemed that Josephine had gotten control of the situation. Dorian and Varric had apparently excused themselves, which meant the Ambassador had quietly threatened bodily harm if they didn’t leave before they embarrassed her and the two were not stupid enough to test her patience. Josephine and the man who she assumed was Cassandra’s uncle were standing in front of the fireplace, chatting quietly amongst the din of Skyhold.

Vestalus Pentaghast was exceptionally handsome with short salt and pepper hair, a matching goatee, and of course, exquisitely high cheekbones that clearly ran in the family. He wore black mage robes, as was befitting of his status as Prelate, and very little adornments aside from a shiny gold ring on his right hand. The resemblance to Cassandra was undeniable, though the man’s expression lacked the stern fierceness that had become the Seeker’s trademark.

In fact, he positively lit up when he saw Evelyn and strode over without waiting for introductions from Josephine. Without warning, Vestalus kissed both of her cheeks and took her hands in his. “The Herald of Andraste! It is an honor. My Cassandra has told me of you. Only very briefly, however, since getting her to return my letters is like pulling teeth.”

“Uh,” she said intelligently. Cassandra wrote about her? “No, the honor is mine, uh --”

“Oh, please, just call me Uncle Vestalus.” Josephine looked like she was going to burst a blood vessel at the sheer impropriety of the Herald of Andraste calling a revered member of the Moralitasi “Uncle”. “May I call you Evelyn?”

“Please do,” she managed to gasp out.

“Wonderful,” he said cheerfully. “So, you and Cassandra are close?”

Dorian, who hadn’t gone far, took this as this cue to stroll back into the conversation. Varric wasn’t far behind him, clearly not wanting to miss the action. “You wouldn’t believe how close,” he said.

“Really close,” Varric echoed. “ _Really, really_ close.”

“Why, if they were any closer, they would practically be attached at the hip--”

“Lord Pentaghast,” Josephine interrupted, desperate to escape with all of their dignity in tact. “While we wait for Lady Pentaghast, may I show you to your room? You will see the Herald again at dinner.”

The two walked off and Evelyn gave her so called friends scathing looks.

“You two are in so much trouble,” she warned. “Josephine is going to murder you and I may not stop her.”

“Worth it,” Dorian replied.

“Yup,” Varric agreed. 

\---

Cassandra was, as Evelyn predicted, less than thrilled to see her uncle at Skyhold, but managed to be civil enough to greet him. 

The civility lasted about thirty seconds, which was about how long it took for Vestalus to comment on Cassandra’s clothes and suggest marriage. He was a brave man, Evelyn had to give him that. Not many could face Cassandra head on so fearlessly.

“It is just a shame that a woman who is so beautiful wears armor all day,” Vestalus insisted as they dug into their soup. 

Cassandra arched an eyebrow. “Uncle, are you suggesting I protect the Herald of Andraste wearing a frilly corset and heels?”

“I would literally pay to see that,” Dorian stage whispered. Evelyn kicked him from under the table.

“Not everything is a battle, Cassandra. I had hoped your time away from Nevarra would help you broaden both your horizons and your mind. Speaking of which, I’ve brought along a few dossiers of eligible suitors.”

Varric leaned forward eagerly. “I hope you’re planning on sharing with the class.”

“Uncle, not this again,” Cassandra complained. “How many suitors’ arms must I break before you understand that I am not looking to marry some rich, spoiled, noble?”

Evelyn tried not to be too offended since she was technically a rich, spoiled noble but reassured herself that Cassandra was talking about these random men and not her. She hoped.

Vestalus opened up a scroll of velum, ignoring Cassandra’s protests. “You’re almost forty. It would not kill you to meet them. Some of them are quite impressive.”

“Ah, but Cassandra has already had her heart stolen by a very impressive noble,” Dorian said innocently. “Perhaps--”

Cassandra took a fork and stabbed it into the table, dangerously close to Dorian’s hand. He flinched away with a small gasp. “One more word, Tevinter, and I will make the First Blight look like child’s play.”

Evelyn held her hands up soothingly. “Uncle Vestalus --”

“ _Uncle Vestalus?_ ” Cassandra repeated, eyes narrowing at the Herald. “And when did he become _Uncle Vestalus_?”

“ -- maybe you and Cassandra could discuss this privately after dinner? For now, I would love to hear more about what she was like as a child.”

“As would we all,” Dorian agreed. “Please, leave out no detail.”

Evelyn threw an irate Cassandra an apologetic look, silently promising to make it up to her. Cassandra turned her face away and scowled as Vestalus launched fondly into a story about a young Cassandra stripping off her dress, streaking across the family compound, and jumping off a roof while running away from a music tutor.

Damn, Evelyn thought as Varric and Dorian lapped up Cassandra’s mortification. She was in so much trouble.

\---

“I’m sorry,” Evelyn said for what felt like the thousandth time. After dinner, they had retreated to her room before Vestalus could foist anymore bachelor profiles onto Cassandra. Her hands rubbed at the tense muscles in Cassandra’s neck, desperately trying to win back her favor. “I was trying to help.”

“You failed.”

Evelyn winced. She deserved that. “I’m sorry, Cassandra.”

Cassandra sighed. “I suppose it is not entirely your fault.”

“Oh good, that makes me feel so much better,” she said dryly.

“Part of the blame lies with Dorian and Varric, who obviously enjoy seeing me suffer and instigated everything,” Cassandra said, missing the sarcasm.

Evelyn nodded. “Yes, let’s focus on that. Shall I have them executed? I can do that, you know. I’m the Inquisitor.”

Cassandra snorted and leaned back against her. She looked tired, which only served to make Evelyn feel guiltier. “Tempting, but no. The last thing I want to do is make those two martyrs.”

“Good point.”

Evelyn sat across from Cassandra on her bed, knees touching. She reached over for the other woman’s hand. “I think your uncle really cares for you, Cassandra. Maybe his methods are misguided but he worries for you and loves you.”

“You are too soft, too sentimental,” Cassandra said, but squeezed her hand. “You think the best of everyone.”

Evelyn tugged Cassandra closer. It was rare that they got a moment alone together, now even more so with Cassandra’s uncle around and Josephine watching them like a hawk. “Good thing you find that a very endearing quality in a partner?” 

Cassandra snorted, but leaned her forehead against Evelyn’s, hand pressed to her cheek. “Endearing is not the word I would use.”

Kissing her on the lips softly, then both of her cheeks, and her nose, Evelyn smiled. Cassandra flushed adorably and Evelyn could understand why Dorian and Varric got such a kick out of teasing her. Her reactions were precious. “Just admit that you like me. No need to play hard to get.”

“Ugh.”

“That means you like me quite a lot, which is a wonderful coincidence,” Evelyn said against her neck, kissing her pulse point. “Because I’m quite fond of you.”

The pulse under her tongue quickened. “Inquisitor--”

“‘Evelyn.’”

“Inquisitor,” Cassandra insisted.

“You’re so stubborn,” Evelyn said against her collarbone. “I’ve already seen you naked, why the formalities?”

Cassandra made a strangled noise, stuttering out a reply.

Maker, did she care for this woman. Evelyn only hoped their newfound relationship was strong enough to survive the storm.

\---

After breakfast, Vestalus approached Evelyn with a concerned look on his face. Evelyn braced herself but put on her best “helpful Inquisitor” smile. “I have been trying, and failing, to figure out just who has stolen my niece’s heart. Not an easy task by any means.”

 _Tell me about it,_ Evelyn thought. None of the women in her past had ever been as hard to woo as Cassandra, who was surprisingly high maintenance for a woman who thought anything besides training was frivolous and indulgent. “Cassandra hasn’t -- err-- said anything?”

“Not a word. She keeps her feelings close to her chest. So much like her father,” he sighed. “But I do so worry for her. You understand, don’t you?”

Part of her was dying to blurt out the truth, but Evelyn knew that Cassandra valued her privacy and she wasn’t sure Vestalus, as much as he liked her, would approve of the pairing. “I, um,” Evelyn stuttered. “I am certain that the person Cassandra has chosen would endeavor to do everything in their power to be worthy of her.”

Vestalus pursed his lips in away that distinctly reminded her of Cassandra. “You do not think…” He grimaced. “Please tell me it is not the elven apostate. I thought he was a beggar and gave him some coins-- I believe I offended him.”

Evelyn choked. “No, no. Solas is-- no. I don’t think he’s, uh, Cassandra’s type.”

“Hm. And… then there’s the Qunari. I suppose he is… large,” Vestalus offered, obviously trying to be kind. “Do you think --?”

This was starting to get painful. She didn’t know who she felt worse for-- her, the actual lover of Cassandra, or Vestalus. “No. Not a chance.”

“The dwarf-- the author who never stops talking-- the one with the open shirt… which, really, is that necessary, I wonder?” Vestalus asked. A question for the ages, truly. “Cassandra did talk about him in her letter several times. Mostly in regards to throwing him down the stairs, but she does show her affection in odd ways.”

Evelyn waved her hand. “No. Definitely not.”

“Enough,” Cassandra said, entering the scene. “I insist you stop interrogating the Inquisitor, Uncle.”

Vestalus folded his arms over his chest. They were both rather imposing figures and Evelyn felt dwarfed standing between them. “Then tell me who it is and I will stop inquiring.”

“Why must I?” Cassandra asked. “I am, as you say, almost forty. Old enough to look after my own affairs.

“Are you ashamed?” he asked and Evelyn felt her stomach drop.

Cassandra sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Of course not. I have done nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Then why the secrecy, Cassandra?” Vestalus asked, not unkindly. 

Cassandra vaguely gestured in Evelyn’s direction. Evelyn felt the blush start from her cheeks and spread to the tips of her ears and neck. She tried not to smile stupidly at Cassandra; she failed.

“I trust you can appreciate why there is a need for secrecy,” Cassandra said coolly. 

To her surprise, Vestalus clasped a hand over his heart and laughed. “Oh thank the Maker! I thought it might be that bearded man who lives in the barn!” Vestalus took Evelyn’s hand. “A wonderful choice. A good woman from a very good family. Thank the Maker,” he said again. “I am so pleased for you both.”

“So, um,” Evelyn said in a small voice. “You’re not… upset?”

“Upset?” Vestalus asked, genuinely shocked at the question. “Of course not. I believe Cassandra could do a lot worse than the Herald of Andraste.” He lit up. “And now I have someone to wear all the dresses I tried to give Cassandra over the years. A win for us all, I think.”

A win indeed.


End file.
